Fatalistic Fortunes
by Faeline
Summary: Story 3: Megatron and Bumblebee. "It had taken some time to train the young 'bot, to keep him from attacking at every opportunity. Megatron smiled, recalling the spray of sparks, the smell of solder, the shriek of pain from the torn vocalizer."
1. Sweets to the Sweet

**AN:** And now, I start on the TF Pairing Prompt generator. I will upload all new prompt generator stories under this title (desire for organization and all), unless I get something that really takes off on its own (i.e. something more than a one-shot).

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**Prompt: Ratchet / Blackout / Mouth**

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He offlined his optics and listened to the medic scream, the Autobot's throat components grinding together to create one long, low moan that made Blackout shudder, his dermal plates heat, his spark twitch and pulse inside of him.

Removing his fingertips from the medic's shoulder seam, he watched the energon slowly sliding down the joints of his hand. Optics on Ratchet's, he ran his glossa up one finger, catching and swallowing the fluid. Then he reached for the medic's face, traced his chin, found his mouth, the lip plates and ran wet fingers across them before forcing two inside, stroking the other mech's warm glossa; Ratchet's throat convulsed in a swallow as he tasted his own energon.

"You're sweet," Blackout said, and his voice was rough from disuse. "I knew I was right to ask Lord Megatron for you." He stroked the medic's optic ridge, ran his other hand along his own chest plates, shuddering slightly as they teased the center seam.

"Ironhide..." The medic's voice was faint and his dimly lit optics flickered as Blackout backhanded him.

"You say _his_ name?" the larger mech hissed, leaning his brow against the medic's. "What did I tell you?"

Blackout raised his hand again, raked claws over the green and yellow chest plates, peeling curls of paint. The medic squirmed within the ties that bound him to the berth as Blackout changed tactics in one swift movement, stroking the components along the Autobot's side that sent Ratchet's chest plates, and then the casing of his spark chamber, sliding back.

"I've told you. Again and Again. The only name you'll be saying is mine."

Blackout thrust his fingers into the medic's chest, into the spark chamber and Ratchet howled, terrible, unrestrained, _beautiful_, the sound echoing through the room, ending in a few choked syllables that may have been the beginning of a plea, may have been a name, but he offlined before Blackout could be sure.

Blackout stroked the edges of the medic's spark casing, almost as an afterthought, and murmured, watching the Autobot's optics dim, "The only one you'll be screaming for, is me."

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_More to come..._

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	2. Beloved

**AN:** After two years, I discovered some never posted short fics on my flash drive...

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**Prompt: Blackout / Optimus Prime / beloved **

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He didn't mind the table scraps.

Oh, he knew what the others called him. Megatron's Hound. Name dredged up from that filthy, drooling Earth creature that was said to display loyalty to only one master, to follow their every whim, eat from their hand, roll over and play dead at will...

But really, it wasn't all that bad a place to be. That loyalty afforded him rank, certain privileges, and an image that others quelled before.

And, as he said, he didn't mind the table scraps... No one else would ever be granted _this_ particular privilege.

Fans whirred as he took in the scent of hot oil and metal, spilled Energon. He trailed the tips of his claws across the blue chassis–paint faded and scraped–over the open chest. The light of a spark still lingered there. He liked to cup his hands around it, feel the tiniest pulse of energy against his plating.

It wouldn't be long now, he knew. Not long at all, until the energy faded completely. Until the blue optics extinguished.

But he would take what he could in the interim. And, perhaps Megatron would allow him to keep the protoform...

He inched closer, rested his forehead against the other's, pressed his fanged mouth to the cheek, glossa protruding to touch it lightly, leaving a smear of lubricant. He thought he felt the mech twitch and ran a hand through the open chest once more, claws raking along the spark chamber.

"Soon," he said. "You'll be all mine soon enough."


	3. Monotony

**AN:** For this go-round, Megatron, Bumblebee, and a special guest appearance by Sam...

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**Prompt: Megatron / Bumblebee / monotony **

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Megatron drew back the hand that held the offering at the static-spitting hiss from the Autobot scout kneeling on the floor.

One optic ridge quirked in amusement and he settled the hand in his lap.

"Come," Megatron said and watched the flare of light in those optics. Relished it.

It had taken some time to train the young 'bot, to keep him from attacking at every opportunity. Megatron smiled, recalling the spray of sparks, the smell of solder, the shriek of pain from the torn vocalizer. It was well worth it. Only...

With the murderous impulses, went most of the fire. The scout was meek and docile, though at times, Megatron sensed the recrimination inside the processor. But otherwise, he was a good pet.

Their interactions lost the flavor of rage, the spice of defiance. They became repetitive, boring.

And boring was one thing Megatron hated.

Which brought him to now. Settled on his throne, watching the Autobot quiver.

"You won't see to your own needs," Megatron said, rolling the last word from his mouth, delectable "n" and hissing "s." He held out his hand again. "Surely, you can train him as I trained you." The sedative should have been wearing off at any time. "Unless," he continued, "you would prefer for me to do it?"

Screech of metal as Bumblebee's fingers dug into the floor and then he was crawling toward the throne.

Megatron held his hand down to Bumblebee; the small figure resting in the cage of metal fingers was beginning to stir. Its eyes opened and it coughed and looked up, croaking a single word... "Bee?"

Blue optics met red for an instant before Bumblebee grasped the organic quickly, but, Megatron noted, _so_ gently and scrambled away from the throne.

"Train him well, pet," Megatron said, rising and moving toward the door, "I expect to see all that he has learned."


End file.
